


her hand in mine

by hauntedsapphic



Category: Riot Girls (2019)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, F/F, Girls in Love, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Murder, i cant believe thats not a tag wtf, no beta we die like (wo)men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedsapphic/pseuds/hauntedsapphic
Summary: She couldn't sleep.Her head was too full. Full of the boy from the toll, full of Scratch and "you're not my boyfriend," and full of Fish and Madge and the knife slicing his small throat and the arrow piercing Madge's chest and Caine's desperate pleas of, "just breathe," and-She couldn't sleep.//oneshot
Relationships: Nat/Scratch (Riot Girls)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	her hand in mine

**Author's Note:**

> i watched riot girls last night and the first thing i did when i finished it was go looking for fanfics about it. i found literally nothing so naturally i stayed up till 5am writing this :)))  
> its almost 7am so I'm posting this then passing out i hope u enjoy

Nat recoiled against the desk she was pressed down on, blood from the boy in the letterman jacket splattering across her face as the gunshot reverberated around the toll booth. She shut her eyes against the spray of blood, but still, she could feel the blood dripping from her eyelashes, trailing down her cheeks in rivulets.

Her chest was heaving as she pushed the boy whose name she didn't know- didn't want to know- off her, blinking the blood out of her eyes. Across from her stood Scratch, eyes wide and gun now held limply by her side, like she hadn't even realised what had just happened. She wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve, pushing herself off the desk she had been forced down onto. Scratch didn't take her eyes off her, searching her face and rumpled clothing for any sign that the boy had gotten any further than she'd thought.

Nat stumbled forward, feeling like she was on autopilot. Scratch dropped the gun to the ground, the chamber now devoid of bullets, and caught Nat in her embrace. Nat buried her face in her neck, breathing shakily into the comforting warmth of her skin, gripping desperately to the front of Scratch's jacket. Scratch nestled a hand at the back of her head, carding gently through her hair in a calming, repetitive motion. Her other arm rested over Nat's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into her back. Her hands- soft, and so gentle, unlike the harsh, cruel pressure of his- held her close, soothing her trembling.

Biting back tears, she pulled away, dimly aware of Sony standing awkwardly by the car. Scratch let her go easily- reluctantly- but easily. Nat steeled herself, surpressing the emotions threatening to spill over. She stepped backwards, meeting Scratch's eyes, which bored into her own with poorly veiled worry and concern.

Nat's gaze was torn away by a smear of blood on Scratch's neck.

Blood from where Nat's face pressed against her neck.

_His_ blood.

The boy, whose brains currently lay splattered across the floor of the toll booth.

The boy Scratch had killed. 

. . . . . .

"Are you okay?"

Scratch stood a few feet away from where Nat was leaning against the car, wiping the blood from her face with her flannel.

"I'm fine."

Scratch's gaze dropped to the ground, and Nat wanted to say something else, to step forward and take her hand, but instead she shrugged on her jacket, the interior cool against her bare arms. "Let's get the fuck out of here." Nat didn't respond, but Scratch's profanity comforted her, in a strange way. It was familiar, as if nothing had happened. Nat wished nothing had happened. 

. . . . . .

She couldn't sleep.

Her head was too full. Full of the boy, from the toll, full of Scratch and " _you're not my boyfriend,"_ and full of Fish and Madge and the knife slicing his small throat and the arrow piercing Madge's chest and Caine's desperate pleas of " _just breathe,"_ and-

She couldn't sleep.

She couldn't sleep without the familiar heat of Scratch's body pressed up against the length of her own, the comfort of her arm wrapped around her waist and her chest pressed up against her back. She felt cold. She felt alone.

She couldn't sleep when she didn't even know if her brother was still alive. Who was to say the Titans hadn't killed Jack the minute they'd brought him back to Jeremy? Fish and Madge were dead- all because they had given them refuge from the Titans. All because of her. All Madge had wanted was to get high and forget this fucking hellhole they were living in, and Fish- Fish was just a fucking _kid_. Caine had only tried to help them, and look where that got her. Taken to the high school by the same psycho who had slit Fish's throat, probably to meet a similar fate..

Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about what was coming tomorrow. Breaking into the high school full of Titans- their chances of getting out alive were low, but their chances of finding Jack and Caine? Breathing deeply, she tried to clear her mind. She just needed to sleep.

. . . . . .

Nat took a seat beside Scratch on the picnic table, staring resolutely down at the frayed edges of her jeans. She let out a shaky breath before she spoke. "I shouldn't have said the things I said and acted the way I did," she began, her voice already trembling. 

Scratch shook her head, refusing to look at her. "Whatever."

"No, I'm serious." Nat turned to face Scratch, grasping her arm. "You're _not_ a psycho."

Scratch turned to look at her then, properly, for the first time since they'd fought yesterday.

"I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you," she continued, voice thick with emotion, "I wouldn't be able to go on, to keep living this fucking hellhole if it wasn't for you. And right now I might be scared of so many things, but more than anything I'm scared that you're never gonna stop being mad at me." Her voice shook, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. "And I'm gonna have to deal with all this shit, without you. So, I'm sorry for the things that I said." Voice breaking, she braced herself for what she was about to say next.

"But more than anything, I'm sorry for making you feel like I don't love you. Because I do."

Nat bit her lip, allowing the tears blurring her vision to finally spill down her cheeks. She was safe here, safe to cry and bare her soul to the girl she loved, because, at that moment, it felt like she and Scratch were the only two people in the world. And that was all that mattered.

"I love you."

She released a breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. "It's okay, I understand if you're still mad-,"

She was cut off as Scratch leaned towards her, cupping her cheek gently in her palm as she pressed her lips against hers. Nat leaned into the kiss, the taste of salt on her tongue as Scratch kissed the traces of tears from her lips.

The tolling of bells cut through the haze of their kissing, and they separated just before Sony came rushing out the door towards them.

"You guys should come inside," he said, gesturing to the open door.

They held hands as they walked back to the house, fingers tightly interlocked not caring whether they could be seen.

. . . . . .

Blood.

The thick smell of it permeated the air, making its way into the back of her throat. Three bodies were spread out across the floor, thick, viscous blood pooling beneath each of them, the red light making it appear almost black. Two of them donned letterman jackets, their bodies splayed out gruesomely on the gym floor.

The third, bruised and bloody, but alive, lay unconscious amidst a circle of horrified onlookers, unsure if they should step forward. Their leader's body rested in front of all of them, machete grotesquely protruding from his chest. She could still hear the sound of him choking up blood, reminiscent of the way the blood had gushed from the boy in the toll booth.

Nat gripped the sleeves of Scratch's sweater from where she was positioned protectively in front of her. The machete was still lodged in Jeremy's body several feet away, and she felt no desire to try pulling it from his lifeless body. Meaning Scratch possessed their only weapon.

Caine tried in vain to wake Jack up, but he remained limp and unresponsive.

A Titan, the same who had cut Fish's throat, stepped up, letting them go. Nat and Scratch rushed towards Jack, supporting his weight until they made it out. Piling into the truck that Sony pulled up in, they sped away from the high school, leaving the west side and the titans in the dust.

Nat rested comfortably in the bed of the truck with Scratch, nestled comfortably beneath her arm. They traded exuberant kisses, their breathless laughter carried away by the wind whipping through their hair.

. . . . . .

They lay peacefully in bed that night, finally back in their shared home on the east side. Scratch's arm was draped around her waist, her face nestled comfortably in the crook of her neck. Nat tangled their fingers together where Scratch's hand rested on her stomach. Despite the comfort of Scratch pressed up against her back and her soft breath brushing the back of her neck, Nat still couldn't sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the boy pushing her down in the toll booth, his harsh grip on her wrists, phantom hands grasping at her clothes. The deafening bang of the gunshot and his blood splattering all over her face. The sickening squelch as she drove the machete through Jeremy's back. His desperate gasps as he coughed up blood all over the floor. She did that. She killed him.

A soft kiss was pressed to the back of her neck. "Stop thinking," Scratch said softly. "We're fine. Jack is back. Jeremy's gone. And look, the dog's still here."

"Yeah," Nat smiled. She glanced down to where the dog slept at the foot of their bed. "We have to name him."

Scratch hummed into the back of her neck. "How about Jeremy?" She joked.

"Don't joke about that!" Nat said sharply, slapping Scratch's thigh where her leg was curled up beneath her own. Scratch laughed, her breath hot on the back of Nat's neck. "Sorry," she chuckled, "too soon?"

Nat sighed, "I don't think it'll ever _not_ be too soon..." She trailed off.

"I can't stop thinking about it, Scratch," She said quietly, "Jeremy... I just can't get the image of him lying on that floor with a machete sticking out of his chest out of my head. I did that, Scratch, I killed him."

Scratch untangled their fingers and pulled Nat's shoulder, readjusting their position so Nat was looking up at her. "Is that what's keeping you awake? What happened with Jeremy?" She was propped up on her elbow, looking down at Nat in concern, her fingers trailing gently through Nat's hair.

"I know we didn't have a choice. It was him or us. But... he was still a _person_."

"You can't think like that," Scratch replied firmly. "Jeremy was insane. He was hurting people, he deserved exactly what he got. If you hadn't stopped him he just would've kept on hurting people. It would have happened to him sooner or later, it just... happened to be you."

"It's not just him," Nat hesitated. Talking about it would make it real. Too real. What almost happened in the toll booth- she closed her eyes, taking a breath. When she opened them, she saw Scratch watching her patiently, waiting for her to continue. "It's... it's the guy from the toll booth. Every time I close my eyes he's just... _there_. Holding me down and-," she cut herself off, unable to continue.

Scratch dipped her head down until their foreheads were almost touching. " _Hey_ ," she whispered softly, "he's gone, okay? He can't hurt you, ever again. I won't ever let anyone hurt you again, I promise." She brought her hand down from Nat's hair, cupping her cheek gently, thumb swiping over her soft skin. Scratch smiled down at her crookedly, bumping their noses together.

"I love you," Nat breathed, warm and inviting against Scratch's lips.

"I love you too," Scratch whispered, closing the gap between them. She brushed their lips together softly, deepening the kiss when Nat threaded her fingers through her mohawk. She cradled Nat's jaw tenderly, thumb brushing over her pulse point. Nat's pulse jumped beneath Scratch's touch, making her smile into the kiss. Pulling away, Nat trailed her fingers up Scratch's arm to where her palm rested soothingly against her jaw. She interlocked their fingers, pushing Scratch's chest with her other hand, urging her to lay back.

They shifted again, this time so Nat's head was resting on Scratch's chest, her arm thrown across her stomach, their fingers intertwined. Scratch's other arm rested over her shoulder, her fingers carding through her hair slowly, lulling her to the brink of unconsciousness.

"You okay?" Scratch asked, her voice hushed.

"I'm fine," Nat replied. And this time, she meant it.

She could sleep now. 


End file.
